Loved Eternally
by Darthanne
Summary: After Wing ZERO, Trowa was never found. Over two years later, Quatre finally comes to the realisation that to move on, he must visit Trowa's grave and say goodbye.


Loved Eternally (1/1)

by Anne Olsen

Based on an original plotline by Kashie. 

Ratings/Warnings : PG - OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar) – Canon based AU – Heavy angst, romance, IMPLIED CHARACTER DEATH. 

Pairing: 3x4, Quatre's POV.

Author's notes: This fic was written in response to Kashie's wonderful picture of Quatre weeping over Trowa's grave which you can see here - 

After chatting on AIM, she outlined the story idea behind the picture and I offered to write it for her. I hope I've done both it and the picture justice. 

Archive: 

Summary: After Wing ZERO, Trowa was never found. Over two years later, Quatre finally comes to the realisation that to move on, he must visit Trowa's grave and say goodbye.

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the boys in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any broken bones or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction.

Dedication: For Kashie. *hugs* 

Thanks: To Bast and Lorena for beta reading, and to Hex for her ongoing support. 

Comments to: anneo @ paradise.net.nz

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Two years? 

Although I knew Duo was right, I allowed myself a glance at the calender on my desk to confirm the date. How could I have forgotten today? How could I have forgotten our…Trowa, how could I have forgotten? It had been two years ago today that I'd finally agreed to play along with my friends' insistence that Trowa was dead. 

I'd refused to believe he was gone until I had proof - a body, an eyewitness, anything to prove either his death or survival – I'd kept hunting long after everyone else had given up. And as I still had no evidence of his death it meant that he was still alive. 

Didn't it? 

Part of me still expected him to come up behind me, pull me into his arms and tell me that everything was okay. 

But I'd gotten past those dreams. Dreams of a different kind had made sure of that. It had been months since I'd awoken screaming…as long as I continued to push my memories away I could cope - I could get on with my life. 

Or what passed for it. I was doing what was expected of me, performing my duties as the Winner heir. It gave me the focus I needed to distract myself from a grief I was unable to share. How could I tell my family that I was grieving for a lover they'd never met, for a man they only knew had been a fellow Gundam pilot. The other pilots knew the truth about our relationship, but then they'd always been more of a family to me than those who shared my name. 

"Quatre? You okay?" My attention returned to the vidscreen and Duo's worried face. "Cat?"

"I'm fine, thanks." I shifted in my seat. "I, umm, appreciate your concern, but really, Duo, I'm fine."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"I just thought…" Duo fidgeted with the end of his braid. "If you'd like some company…we could have a few drinks and remember…"

"I don't want to remember." The words were out of my mouth before I realised. "Look, I'm sorry, I have a business function tonight that I have to get ready for," I kept my tone friendly and nonchalant in an attempt to cover up my slip. "I'll contact you in a few days when things aren't so busy, okay?"

"Cat…" Duo frowned. "If you don't, I'm coming up there and dragging your butt out from behind that desk myself." He added after a pause, "you can't run away forever, Quatre. You haven't been the same since Tro died. He wouldn't want you to…"

"Good bye, Duo. Talk to you later." I leaned over to cut the connection, hating myself for the way I'd treated one of my dearest friends but not seeing any other option. Duo's words had threatened the security of the wall I'd taken such pains to erect. 

"Trowa's /not/ dead!"

I'd been so sure at first, but how much of that had been out of necessity? If Trowa were dead it would be because I'd killed him. Why couldn't he have stayed out of the battle? The shot had been meant for Heero, not for him. 

Not for the man I'd fallen in love with. Not for the man I would have given up everything for.

I laughed, but it sounded bitter to my ears. Given up everything for? I remembered screaming at Heero, begging him for kill me, pleading with him to save Trowa but to no avail. 

And afterwards it had been too late. 

Given up everything for? If I concentrated I could still feel the gentle touch of his hand on my cheek, his lips against mine as we'd shared that first tentative kiss. 

No, I'd been too wrapped up in my own need for revenge to even contemplate the repercussions of my actions. Trowa had been the one to give up everything for me, not the other way round. 

"You're not the Quatre I know," he'd said.

He hadn't known me as well as he'd thought. How could he have? We'd connected so quickly, so totally…but we'd never had the luxury of a courtship – he'd never had the time to discover the darkness within me that my father's death had shown me had existed far closer to the surface than I'd wanted to believe. 

Burying my face in my hands, I slumped forward in my chair.

I'd killed him…

Not once, but twice.

Someone had once told me that for as long as a person is remembered they are never truly dead. 

In pushing my memories of Trowa away, I'd made a decision to forget him, to kill the part of him that still lived within my heart, within my soul.

Oh, Trowa, I'm so sorry. 

In refusing to acknowledge his death, I'd neither been able to move on nor deal with the past. I was stuck between the two, in a limbo which was slowly destroying me as surely as the shot from Wing ZERO had destroyed our future. 

I'd never even visited his grave, as it would have been an admission of a truth I wasn't prepared to contemplate. 

"Mr Winner?" In response to the light touch on my shoulder, my hand went for the gun I'd long since discarded in favour of the weapons of the boardroom. "Mr Winner," my secretary repeated, "are you all right, sir?"

"Quite all right, Karen." I forced a smile. "I guess I need to go home and take a nap before tonight." 

"Unless you have plans to nose dive into your soup, that might be a good idea… sir." She returned the smile, but it didn't hide her concern. "Do you want me to ring for your car?" 

"Thank you," I paused. "I'll see you tomorrow. Good afternoon, Karen."

"Good afternoon, Mr Winner." 

I waited until she'd left the room before I rose to my feet and reached for my coat. My hands were shaking and I hid them under the folds of material as I made my way out of the building to where my driver and car were waiting. 

The journey home seemed to take forever, the images I'd been trying to shut out replaying over and over in my mind like a slow motion film. 

My first glimpse of Trowa as we'd surrendered to each other at Corsica. Calling out to him from the window and telling him my name. Meeting him again as our Gundams had been loaded on board the ship; that time spent together before the battle at New Edwards was to be the last time I saw him before…

No…I won't. I won't remember that. I refuse to. Please. 

His hand cradling my cheek as he'd stroked it gently. Kissing him for the first time after we'd sat up all night talking. Making love before…

Before….

I gripped the cool leather of my seat to stop myself crying out …

Before…before…

"Trowa!" No, get out the way. What are you doing? "Trowa!" My voice was hoarse and loud to my ears but I knew it was barely above a whisper. 

"Trowa!" My God, what I had done? What had I done?

The coldness of despair gripped me; I couldn't move. Attempting to sink back into the protective grip of the seat beneath me, I knew what I needed to do, but I was scared.

I was more than just scared…I was terrified. "Hector," I said, taking pride in the way I managed to keep my voice perfectly calm, "there's been a change of plan for this evening."

"Sir?" 

"If you could return in an hour, I would appreciate it." My voice hitched. "Something unexpected requires my attention so I won't be attending…" The car stopped and opening my passenger door, I bolted inside before the tentative hold remaining over my emotions vanished completely. 

It was nothing short of a miracle that I managed to mumble my way through my usual greetings to the domestic staff. I could feel my self-control slipping and it wouldn't do to lose it in front of an audience. I wasn't under any illusions that I'd be able to keep myself together for much longer, but there was only one person I'd ever shown my true self, my soul, to and he deserved that this one last time. 

I hadn't cried at the funeral – what was the point getting upset over an empty casket? Trowa wasn't dead; I was only going through the motions so that the others could find closure. I didn't need it; I'd keep looking for Trowa until I found him and then and only then I'd return to his grave, no…it was only a memorial, never a grave. 

When had I stopped looking? How long had I been running away from what I was about to do? Trowa would have wanted me to be strong and I'd failed him. 

I'd failed him.

This evening I'd show my love for him by finally letting him go. Maybe in allowing him to rest in peace, I could find the inner peace I needed myself. 

Throwing off my jacket and not caring where it landed, I rummaged through the back of my closet for the box I'd thrown there after the war. Yes, it was still there. I ran my hand over the lid almost reverently. If I were going to say goodbye to Trowa, it was important that I dressed for the occasion, that I dressed as he remembered me. 

My hands were shaking as I unpacked its contents and lay them over the bed. Stripping off the remainder of my current clothing down to my boxers, I pulled on first the khakis and then the lavender shirt. 

"I like you in that outfit, Cat," Trowa had told me, his lips curving into a grin. "It's cute…" I'd glared at him and he'd laughed before continuing. "In an extremely sexy way of course." 

I hadn't been able to bring myself to wear either since my return home. 

Sitting on the end of the bed, I buttoned up the shirt, finished off the ensemble with what had been my trademark vest – we'd all had our second skins during the war – and bent to tie the laces on my shoes. I was surprised everything still fit; I'd grown in height over the past few years but hadn't really filled out as much as I could have. I ate what I needed to stay healthy but often it was just another chore in a long list of chores I really couldn't be bothered with. 

Would Trowa recognise me? Or would he dismiss me as a stranger while he struggled to remember? The clothing might be the same but what about the person inside? Had I changed that much?

Am I still the Quatre you loved, or is that part of me gone forever? 

The sigh that escaped my lips echoed through the quiet room, and swallowing, I crossed the room to survey myself in the full-length mirror. It was at the wrong angle; that must be the problem. But after tilting it, the reflection still remained unchanged. What did Trowa look like at eighteen? I wondered. 

What would he have /looked/ like? 

No, I'd never make it through the rest of the evening if I allowed those thoughts to surface. 

I inspected myself in the mirror again, still trying to reconcile the image with the memories. Maybe if I shook my head a little to muss up my hair?

He'd loved running his fingers through my hair. The last time we'd been together he'd kissed me on the forehead before brushing my overhanging locks from my face. "Your love of life is reflected in your eyes," he'd told me. "Promise me you'll never lose that light." 

"I promise," I whispered to the stillness of the room, suddenly unsure if the light he'd spoken about had ever been there or whether it were something only Trowa had been able to see. There was a flash of green behind me: I turned, only to realise that it was only a reflection from outside, caught in a sudden flash of sunlight. 

I pulled at the vest, but was unable to bridge the gap between it and the top of my trousers. Too much time had passed; that Quatre Winner had faded to be replaced by the one who stared back at me from the mirror. 

Trowa wasn't dead…he was as alive as I was. 

My hand went to my chest in response to a pain I hadn't acknowledged in a very long time. It was time to lay my ghosts to rest. 

When I got downstairs, the car was waiting for me as I'd requested. Halfway down the long driveway I told Hector to stop. Acting on a whim, I approached one of the gardeners still on duty and asked to borrow his clippers. He seemed surprised but didn't question me. It didn't take long to gather a bouquet of ten roses. I'd chosen twelve originally to represent our joint pilot designations but it seemed right to discard two of those – one for each year Trowa and I had been apart. 

"Can you wait a moment, Mr Winner?" the gardener asked, ducking inside the shed where he kept his tools. Upon his return he handed me some cream coloured tissue paper. "She'll appreciate them more if you wrap them." 

"Thank you," I replied, "I'm sure he…" I began to awkwardly arrange the paper around the bouquet but my hands were shaking too much. 

The old man took them from me gently and finished what I couldn't. "First dates used to make me nervous too," he said. 

"It's not a first date," I even wasn't sure why I felt the need to explain myself to one of my staff. "It's…I'm saying goodbye," I told him, my voice flat and lacking emotion. 

"You're a good man, Mr Winner…you remind me a lot of your father when he was your age." The gardener smiled. "Do what you heart tells you and you'll find things have a way of working out."

It's too late! I wanted to scream but instead I thanked him politely and returned to the car. Was I following my heart or just finally admitting defeat and bowing to the inevitable? 

The drive to the cemetery was over far too soon. Gripping Trowa's bouquet with both hands, I fought the urge to order Hector to turn the car around and speed away in the opposite direction. 

Once inside the gates I started walking in the general direction of the Winner family plot. I wasn't sure where I was going, just that I'd get where I needed to be eventually. The fading sun winked at me from within the canopy of trees at the top of a small rise and, breaking into a run, I decided to follow it. Nothing could catch me now but the wind; if I kept going I could outrun anything and everything. 

Reaching the top of the hill, I stopped to catch my breath. The maples were beautiful this time of year, the leaves beginning to fall from the trees to form a rusty blanket over the grass. It was wild here, unlike the rest of the cemetery that had been painstakingly cared for. 

My eye caught a solitary grave under an old maple and I found myself reading the words etched onto the grey granite of the headstone. 

Trowa Barton. 

Loved Eternally. 

I took a step back, biting back a sob. I couldn't let Trowa down now, not after having come this far. 

Kneeling in front of the headstone, I moistened my lips and tried to speak. "Tr…Trowa, I brought you…flowers." 

The only answer was the rustle of leaves through the trees and the whispers from the long grass. The sun was fading into dusk; the evening having decided to begin its retreat against the coming night. 

Shivering, I licked my lips, and tried to ignore the churning in my stomach. "I…I dressed just how you'd remember me," I managed to choke out as my vision began to blur. Forcing myself to smile, I attempted to pull myself together. Trowa would want me to be strong. 

"I miss you, Trowa…" The flowers dropped from my hand, and I grasped the stone to steady myself as I failed to hold back my tears. My body shook, but instead of providing the solace I sought, the granite was cold and unyielding. I clung to it; the stone underneath my fingers growing damp with the moistened trails of my grief.

The hand on my shoulder was hesitant, the voice soft and full of concern. "Are you okay?" 

I turned, ready to tell the person to leave me alone. This was between Trowa and I, and Trowa had always been a person who appreciated privacy; I didn't want a stranger to see me or to intrude on our last moment together. 

He was tall, slim, with eyes the colour of … no, it couldn't be. The man in front of me was the spitting image of Trowa. 

I was dreaming. I had to be. Choking back a sob, I closed my eyes, but upon opening them, he was still there. Was this really Trowa or just someone who looked just like him? 

Our eyes met, and any doubts I had left disappeared. 

I'd always been able to see into his soul, and this time was no different. This was the same caring, beautiful man I'd met over two years ago but with one important difference. In shedding the emotional scarring of memory he'd also forgotten our shared hopes and dreams. 

Could I trade one for the other? Did I have the right? 

Trowa removed his hand from my shoulder and took a step backwards. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I thought for a moment that we'd met before. Are you sure you're okay?"   
  
"My name's Cat," I said, deliberately not using my full name, as I extended my hand in a gesture of friendship, "and I will be. Thank you." 

"Triton Bloom," he smiled and shook it firmly. 

Bloom? I frowned at the familiar name. There'd been a Catherine Bloom at Trowa's funeral. Heero had contacted her because she'd helped Trowa to nurse him back to health after he'd self-destructed in Wing. She'd been one of the first people I'd seen after the war in the hope that maybe she had news of him. She hadn't. 

"Did you know him? Trowa I mean?" Trowa gestured towards the headstone.

"Yes," I replied softly. "I knew him. He is…was…someone very dear to me." 

"Oh." Trowa examined the ground at his feet. 

"What about you?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. 

"I was found floating in space during the war, and when I regained consciousness I was suffering from amnesia. All the doctors I've been to insist that it will return in time; but it's been over two years…" He frowned. "I saw Trowa's name in an old newspaper clipping and…the name seemed familiar so I figured that maybe he was someone out of my past." 

"So what brought you here?" I didn't believe in coincidences.

"I've been following any leads I could which might lead to someone who knew Trowa, who might know me." Trowa sighed. "I thought I'd found something when I found a reference to a Trowa connected to the Barton Foundation, but the more information I've found the more I think he can't be the one I'm looking for. Anyone who knew him either refuses to return my letters or to see me; I even tried tracking other members of his family but all I've been able to find is mention of a sister and a child called Mariemaia, and the trail finishes there."

"And?" I prompted. 

"I've been hunting through cemeteries, looking for graves bearing the Barton name; I found Trowa's a few weeks ago." He paused. "I've been here a few times in the hope that it would help me to remember, but it hasn't. I wasn't going to come again today, but I thought that maybe one last time…I guess I was wrong."

"Maybe it's something you don't want to remember? Sometimes…" My words caught in my throat but I forced myself to continue. "Sometimes it's better not to remember."

"But I keep thinking there's something missing…something important," Trowa sighed in frustration. "I'm not even sure that Triton Bloom is my real name, but it seemed right so I've been using it." He gazed at me intently and I stiffened. "How can it be better not to remember?"

"Not all memories are good," I told him, glancing away. "Sometimes it's better to sacrifice the good memories to protect someone you…" I bit my lip. "There are things you don't want to remember. Tr…Triton?" 

"Yes?"

"Do you sleep at night?" Did I have the right to condemn Trowa to sleepless nights spent trying to forget what we Gundam pilots have done in the name of peace? 

"Mostly," he admitted. "I know I dream…I can't recall much when I awaken, but I know they're good dreams." A chuckle escaped him. "Maybe I've seen someone like you in my dreams…maybe that's why you seem so familiar."

He had the chance to start over, a gift few are given. How could I take that from him, just to satisfy my own selfish desires?

"Cat?" 

"Yes?" Blinking the tears from my eyes, I managed to keep myself calm and controlled.

"Do /_you/_ know me?" 

I looked him squarely in the eyes and crossed my fingers behind my back. "No," I said, "I'm sorry, Triton. I knew Trowa but I don't know you." I swallowed, ignoring the pain in my chest, feeling his disappointment but knowing this was the right decision for both of us. "He never spoke of you…I hope…I…you need to find your place in life but unfortunately your answers aren't here."

__

/If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it is yours. If it does not, it was never meant to be./

It was time to let Trowa go – to give him the chance to pursue the future he deserved. 

"Thank you." He turned to walk away but I placed my hand on his arm. 

"Triton…" I pulled him closer. "Do you mind…you can say no if you want to." I smiled. "I love…loved Trowa. I know he's not here, but in some ways you remind me of him. Can I…I'd like…can I kiss you?"

"Kiss me?" Trowa stared at me in disbelief.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "We've only just met…I shouldn't have asked." I gave a shaky laugh. "I shouldn't have assumed…I bet it's not everyday that you get asked that question by another man." 

To my surprise he smiled. "No, it's not but I…I think I'd like that." He brushed my hair from my brow in the way he'd always done. "I'm sorry I'm not him."

"Don't be," I said, brushing my lips against his. He tasted just as I'd remembered and I leaned into the kiss, taking comfort in the fact that my final memory of him wouldn't be that of a cold headstone. 

He broke away from my embrace and stared into my eyes. My heart skipped a beat even before he spoke. 

"Quatre?"

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~fin~

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